Author's infos

*** Author’s Note: This story is semi-fictional. Basically, the ‘happy’ parts are the ones I made up. It’s how I wish my life could be. The names are real, though. This is my first time writing this kind of story, feedback is much appreciated. I’ll write more if I get good feedback. Although this instalment doesn’t contain any sexual material, that may change in following instalments.
The title is Italian for resuscitation/reanimation. The metaphor should become obvious, but it’s Italian… cause… well, because I find it an extremely romantic language. And that’s a good enough reason. ***

Rianimazione

Chapter 1

I sighed, as I slumped back into my chair.

It’s the same thing every day; I go to school, go to class, walk home, and spend the night in my basement, until I can gather the energy to drag myself back to bed. And then, I lie there, and ponder why my life is so fucking lame.

Sure, it’s great to wallow in self-pity every once in a while, but before long even that gets boring.

All my life, short though it’s been, I’ve just wanted someone to love, someone to hold, who feels the same as I do. I’ve deprived myself of so much in search of this simplicity, but so far, it’s been fruitless. I hadn’t even had a date until this year, and it turned out that relationship was pretty much a lie.

A month or so after my 16th birthday, I had had enough. I tried to end it all, suicide. It seemed like the only option, I couldn’t stand the world any more. My attempt failed, but it looked like through it I finally did find the person I had been looking for.

I had ‘known’ Rachel for a while, she had been in my class for 3 years, but we went to different high schools. For two months, I thought she truly cared about me; I could’ve spent the rest of my life with her. But it was all pity. Fear, even. She tried to make me happy so that I wouldn’t try to kill myself again. I could’ve cared less about the things she did for me. She gave me head twice, but like I said before, that’s not what I really want.

Then she broke up with me. She didn’t want to keep lying to herself, to me. And my life returned to how it was; full of hatred, yet an almost overpowering desire for something true.

I got an IM. A girl wanted to talk to me. Her name is Rachel, too. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or what, but I’ve fallen for every girl I’ve met named Rachel. Anyways, back to the story…

We hadn’t talked in a couple of months. We originally met online, and I’ve never actually met her; she lives a couple towns over, in London, Ontario. We really do have quite a lot in common, similar musical tastes and such. But I tried not to get too much into it before; there were other girls I was interested in, and I don’t do well with online/long distance relationships.

I don’t know what made me do what I did, whether it was desperation, or a true feeling, I’ll never know. I talked to her as much as I could, and within a couple days proclaimed that I loved her, and she said it back.

It’s always nice when someone tells you they love you, but I always ruin it by trying to deconstruct it. Yeah, I’ve got some weird habits. Namely, whenever I say anything, before I say it, I mechanically calculate the probability of their response. I’m usually right. You might find that odd, but it’s really quite simple. So many people are plastic these days; they’re unbelievably predictable. The nice thing, though, is when I’m wrong. Because then I know they’re real, they don’t just follow some pattern set by society; they live their own life. But, I digress.

The summer arrived, and Rachel and I were ‘together’. At least, as together as possible, being over 500 km apart. After weeks of careful thought, I reached a decision. I had to see her, to know if it was real. I was still only 16, and couldn’t drive; I hadn’t even bothered to get my G1 yet. But regardless, I left. I wasn’t running away from anything, but I couldn’t stay where I was. I plugged in my headphones and got on a train. I knew where I was going, but I had no clue what I was going to do when I got there.

It was night when I arrived. In an unfamiliar place, with no-one knowing where I was, you’d think I’d be scared. But I wasn’t. I was apathetic, but determined, confused, but clear-headed, depressed, but exhilarated.

I had nowhere to go, so I just walked the streets of London aimlessly. I found a park, so I sat on a swing. I fell asleep inside the play structure, and woke at the break of dawn.

I wandered downtown, and found a payphone. My cell was out of area, so this would be cheaper. I called her, and we talked for a little while. She was shocked to find out I was in her town, but happy. I could hear the smile in her voice.

She agreed to meet me downtown in a couple hours. That meant I had some time to kill, so I made my way to the pond where we were to meet, and I skipped rocks. You know, while thinking about stuff. Deep, eh?

I looked up, and there she was. Across the pond, the reflection of the midday sun in the water shining upon her. We stood there for what seemed like hours, staring across the water in disbelief. Finally, I took the plunge. Literally, I jumped into the water. It didn’t seem right to walk around. She followed suit, and we met in the middle. I took her in my arms and looked into her eyes. They were blue. But not the regular kind of blue… there was something intriguing about them; dark around the edges, growing lighter in the middle, with another dark blue glow around the pupil.

I could have stood there for hours. I didn’t care about the water up to my waist, I hardly even noticed it. It was as if we had reached another plane, where all other life had ceased to exist, and we were alone at last.

It was minutes before either of us spoke. We didn’t want to ruin the abysmal perfection in existence. One wrong word could send us back to the last place we wanted to be: the real world.

I began to move away, but she held me tight, and I smiled.

“Don’t move,” she said, but her eyes pleaded it.

“I want to stay here forever,” I managed to whisper.

I said that, but we both knew we had to move. I reached under the water, and lifted her into my arms. I climbed, soaking, out of the pond, and sat her down on a bench. I never stopped looking into her eyes.